toes curl in my boots, my face flush. “I—I’ve got to go,” I mutter. What am I doing, playing at being his friend? “I need to join the other Sisters.”
“Wait.” His callused fingers are rough against the thin skin at my wrist. My pulse hammers at his touch. “You know something, don’t you?”
I should pull away. “I know a great many somethings. I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re an awful liar.” His voice is low, private. Words only I can hear. “Something’s happened to me, and I don’t know what it is, but you—I was with you when I came to. The night these girls escaped from Harwood.”
I glance at the cluster of Brothers near the gallows. Brother Ishida has turned; he’s watching us. I yank my arm away, and Finn shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Sean Brennan’s in hiding because he’s been accused of treason. I may not remember much, but I know he’s a good man. He sure as hell wouldn’t have voted for this.” Finn looks furious. “Someone set him up and they used me to do it. They found a handkerchief in Harwood on the body of a dead witch. A handkerchief embroidered with a
B.
And it’s not Brennan’s. I know that because I recognize it. Because it’s
mine.
”
“Shhh! Are you mad?” I demand. “Do you want to be arrested and strung up yourself?”
“You don’t seem shocked.” He stares me down. “Was I there at Harwood? Were you?”
He’s figured things out quicker than I thought, but I play dumb. “Wouldn’t you remember if you were there?”
His eyebrows slant down. “No,” he says quietly. “Strangely enough, I don’t think I would.”
He knows. I work to keep the panic off my face. “We cannot talk about this here.”
“Then where? When?” he asks. “Should I call on you this afternoon?”
“No! You can’t come to the convent.” I glance behind me, seeking out Tess and Rilla. Alice is standing a few feet away from the others, arguing with Maura—but Maura’s watching me with Finn. “I can’t be seen with you, I— It’s dangerous.
Please,
Finn.”
He doesn’t back down, but his face softens at my use of his given name. “I need answers.”
“I understand that, but—you can’t risk coming to the convent. It isn’t safe.” I think quickly. “O’Neill’s Stationery. It’s on Fifth Street. Meet me in the back alley tonight at ten. Now—go away.”
Finn nods. “Very well. I’ll see you then.”
I hurry to join the others. Maura’s vanished back into the crowd, which now fills the square. The audience is penned in on three sides by the tall wrought-iron fence. Unless people are panicked enough to scale it and risk the pointy fleurs-de-lis at the top, the only exits are along the front and the small gate at the back. If all goes according to plan, it’s going to be a madhouse.
“What did Maura want?” I ask.
“To accuse me of being a turncoat.” Alice looks put out, her color high, her blue eyes snapping. “What did
he
want?”
“To warn me that we know two of the girls being executed, that they’re from Chatham. He thought I might find it
upsetting,
” I explain.
“That was kind.” Rilla watches Finn stroll back into the crowd of Brothers. There are hundreds of them right down front, ready to watch their vote being carried out. I wonder if their attendance here was mandatory. Surely some of them aren’t eager for this spectacle; surely some of them voted, like Finn, against this?
“It looked a bit more personal than that,” Alice says.
“It wasn’t,” I snap. “And I hardly think you’re in a position to question
my
loyalty.”
I’m spared Alice’s reply by the sudden furor. Guards are shepherding the sixty prisoners down the steps of the National Council building and across the street into the square. Despite the cold, the girls aren’t wearing cloaks. They’re dressed in the same coarse brown skirts and thin white blouses that constituted the Harwood
“Wait.” His callused fingers are rough against the thin skin at my wrist. My pulse hammers at his touch. “You know something, don’t you?”
I should pull away. “I know a great many somethings. I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re an awful liar.” His voice is low, private. Words only I can hear. “Something’s happened to me, and I don’t know what it is, but you—I was with you when I came to. The night these girls escaped from Harwood.”
I glance at the cluster of Brothers near the gallows. Brother Ishida has turned; he’s watching us. I yank my arm away, and Finn shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Sean Brennan’s in hiding because he’s been accused of treason. I may not remember much, but I know he’s a good man. He sure as hell wouldn’t have voted for this.” Finn looks furious. “Someone set him up and they used me to do it. They found a handkerchief in Harwood on the body of a dead witch. A handkerchief embroidered with a
B.
And it’s not Brennan’s. I know that because I recognize it. Because it’s
mine.
”
“Shhh! Are you mad?” I demand. “Do you want to be arrested and strung up yourself?”
“You don’t seem shocked.” He stares me down. “Was I there at Harwood? Were you?”
He’s figured things out quicker than I thought, but I play dumb. “Wouldn’t you remember if you were there?”
His eyebrows slant down. “No,” he says quietly. “Strangely enough, I don’t think I would.”
He knows. I work to keep the panic off my face. “We cannot talk about this here.”
“Then where? When?” he asks. “Should I call on you this afternoon?”
“No! You can’t come to the convent.” I glance behind me, seeking out Tess and Rilla. Alice is standing a few feet away from the others, arguing with Maura—but Maura’s watching me with Finn. “I can’t be seen with you, I— It’s dangerous.
Please,
Finn.”
He doesn’t back down, but his face softens at my use of his given name. “I need answers.”
“I understand that, but—you can’t risk coming to the convent. It isn’t safe.” I think quickly. “O’Neill’s Stationery. It’s on Fifth Street. Meet me in the back alley tonight at ten. Now—go away.”
Finn nods. “Very well. I’ll see you then.”
I hurry to join the others. Maura’s vanished back into the crowd, which now fills the square. The audience is penned in on three sides by the tall wrought-iron fence. Unless people are panicked enough to scale it and risk the pointy fleurs-de-lis at the top, the only exits are along the front and the small gate at the back. If all goes according to plan, it’s going to be a madhouse.
“What did Maura want?” I ask.
“To accuse me of being a turncoat.” Alice looks put out, her color high, her blue eyes snapping. “What did
he
want?”
“To warn me that we know two of the girls being executed, that they’re from Chatham. He thought I might find it
upsetting,
” I explain.
“That was kind.” Rilla watches Finn stroll back into the crowd of Brothers. There are hundreds of them right down front, ready to watch their vote being carried out. I wonder if their attendance here was mandatory. Surely some of them aren’t eager for this spectacle; surely some of them voted, like Finn, against this?
“It looked a bit more personal than that,” Alice says.
“It wasn’t,” I snap. “And I hardly think you’re in a position to question
my
loyalty.”
I’m spared Alice’s reply by the sudden furor. Guards are shepherding the sixty prisoners down the steps of the National Council building and across the street into the square. Despite the cold, the girls aren’t wearing cloaks. They’re dressed in the same coarse brown skirts and thin white blouses that constituted the Harwood
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